


Weak

by nomelon



Category: The Vampire Diaries, Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Blood, Brothers, First Time, Incest, M/M, POV Second Person, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Unconventional Families, Vampire Family, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomelon/pseuds/nomelon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damon is still pumped full of vervain and locked in the basement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weak

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: vague spoilers for 1.04 and 1.05  
> Prompt: written for nu_breed who asked for _Damon/Stefan - temptation, vervain, bloodplay._  
> A/N: written in the second person, Stefan POV.

Seeing Damon weak like this messes you up inside. When you were both still alive, he was always the louder one, the brighter one, quicker to fight and dance and flirt. He'd charm and tease while you were busy being the respectable man of the house, sitting watchful on the sidelines, waiting for the moment when he'd look up and search you out to share a grin, to tell you what the game was with a roll of his eyes. You'd be dragged along in his wake, powerless to resist when he wanted you to share a bottle, to chase a girl, to hear another of his wild stories, trouble always nipping at his heels. When you became vampires, a lot changed, but more than you care to admit stayed exactly the same. It doesn't matter how long you spend apart, how dysfunctional and destructive your relationship has become -- he's always been the sun you orbit around. Seeing him like this, lying still and pale and _helpless_ on the dusty floor of the basement, knowing that for the first time in years you're the one with all the power -- it's tying your stomach in knots with some emotion you're afraid to put a name to.

He catches you watching and smiles up at you, barely a curl of his lip, but you know he's laughing at you. He's always been able to see right through you. His nostrils flare and you realise your fists are clenched tightly enough that your nails have cut into your palms. The small tears in your skin have already healed, and you lick away the smears of blood, knowing the scent of it must be driving Damon insane with want.

"Tease," he says, his voice low and scratchy, and his eyes fall shut.

You open the door, cursing how easy it is for him to get under your skin, and you go to him, crouching down, keeping your body between him and the door, trying to be ready for anything.

He turns his head away, his chest shuddering as it fills with air he doesn't need, and you're suddenly so sure that he hates you. You think maybe you hate him, too. You wanted so badly to break him down, to make him _see_, because he doesn't have to be like this. Things didn't have to end up this way. For all Damon's grand talk about living his life as he sees fit, embracing the creature he was made into, you know he's wrong. He's always been so goddamn stubborn it's infuriating. It makes you want to beat it out of him.

You grab the front of his shirt, lifting him easily off the ground, and he hangs there, limp as a rag doll. You've had him locked down here, starved of human blood and pumped full of vervain for two weeks now. You don't think he's faking.

It's a rush to be the strong one again, to know that you're faster and stronger, that he's at your mercy. Part of you wants to take advantage of it, to take revenge for all the suffering he's dished out over the years, all the lives taken, all the past wrongs. For all the secrets he holds and the way he knows you better than anyone. Another part of you just wants your brother back.

"Come to kill me?" Damon asks.

"You know I'm not going to kill you."

"That's right. Goes against your principles. You know if our situations were reversed I wouldn't hesitate."

You fist the back of his hair, turning his head so he has no choice but to look you in the eye. You snarl at him, a dog growl low in your throat, fangs bared, but he doesn't flinch. It's going to take much more than that to get a rise out of him, especially now. He's got to be hurting badly, his senses dulled, but he knows you're not going to bite him. You can't take the chance with all that vervain in his system.

"You're a liar," you spit. "You've had lifetimes to kill me if that's what you really wanted."

"You know what it is I want," he says. "You've always known."

His words hit you like a blow to the chest, and your mouth is crushed to his before you know you've even moved. You're full of denial: your eyes screwed shut as he groans and kisses you back. You give him all your hurt, all your anger, everything you've been trying to tell him for years but never had the words for. Damon just _takes_ it. He tastes like dust and dry air, tainted with the faint numbing tingle on vervain on your tongue. You can feel his wicked smile against your mouth and you pull back, horrified with yourself.

"Didn't think you had it in you."

"This wasn't... Damon, I didn't..."

"Don't you fucking apologise to me. Don't you dare."

Words stick in your throat, but it doesn't matter because Damon isn't interested in talking. He makes a feeble sound of frustration, hooking his fingers on the neck of your shirt and tugging. You give in to him, sinking lower to meet him, because it's what you've always done.

He bites your lip hard enough to break the skin and you know that this was all just another game to him. He's probably amazed that it worked, that you were foolish enough to let his mouth anywhere near you. There are a million things you should do, and not a single one of them involves kissing him harder, letting him suck and groan as he bloodies your kiss, knowing with every drop that you're making him stronger, that you're undoing all your work, that you're letting him regain the upper hand.

You shove your hips against him and he welcomes it, his thighs falling open. You're so close to the edge, that the thought of him like this, pliant against you, willing for once to just go with what you want, it's almost too much.

He tugs open the buttons of your fly, mouthing at your jaw as he makes a fist for you to fuck, rolling up to meet you with his whole body. You're too sex stupid and dizzy with what's happening to realise that he's going to bite you until it's too late, you're coming and the world is whiting out. Damon's fangs are in your throat, his lips on your skin, and you never, ever want it to end.

All you've ever wanted was to keep your family together. Now thoughts of Katherine and what you did to her are like a knife in your gut and Damon lives only to torment you. An eternity of misery.

When you turn your head to look at him, Damon is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> <http://nomelon.dreamwidth.org/142483.html>   
>  <http://nomelon.livejournal.com/152382.html>


End file.
